


Healing for the Soul

by j520j



Series: Azirafell, The Soft Demon [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angel Crowley (Good Omens), Comfort/Angst, Crowley is Raphael, Demon Aziraphale (Good Omens), M/M, Pre-Relationship, Protective Crowley, Reverse Omens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:36:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21838342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j520j/pseuds/j520j
Summary: Azirafell reunites with his friend, the angel Crowley. And old wounds from the past reopen after a terrible discovery.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Azirafell, The Soft Demon [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1544242
Comments: 2
Kudos: 95





	1. Chapter 1

In the kingdom of Wessex, during the 6th century, a descendant of the legendary Roman-Welsh military Lucius Artorius Castus gathered most of the Britons under his command to fight the Saxon invasions of the Isle of Brittany. He would receive the title of Riothamus, the 'king of kings', and would be known in the future as the legendary King Arthur.

After several battles against invaders from the north and south, peaceful years spread across the island, allowing towns and cities to thrive. A peace that Hell didn’t like at all. So they decided to contact the Viscount of Hell, Azirafell, to make the war begin again.

Very reluctantly, the demon accepted the mission. He has managed to stay away from infernal affairs for centuries, concerned only with increasing his impressive collection of papyrus, wax plates, scrolls and prototypes of future books. But now he needed to return to work under the identity of the Black Knight.

 _What a nuisance!_ he thought as he tried to balance himself on a lame steed, dressed head to toe in uncomfortable black armor. _Well, at least it's not that difficult to start conflicts. And they don't even have to be that big. Just a few taunts and that's it, a little battle begins, ends, and everyone is happy. It will not last more than a few days._

As he began to approach the village where he was to strike a conflict, he noticed another knight, dress with gleaming silver armor.

"Who's coming?" called the voice, muffled by the helmet. “I am Sir Crowley from King Arthur's Round Table! Who dares to threaten this village under my protection? ”

"Uh ... hello!" the demon said, getting off his horse slowly. "I am the Black Knight and I came here to take this village in the name of ... ah ... in the name of the enemy, that's it!"

"Depart from here, evildoer!" exclaimed the knight. "Or ye will find death by my sword!"

 _Wait ... this voice?_ Azirafell frowned, slowly approaching and lifting his helmet. "Is that you in there, Crawly?"

"Crowley!" the knight raised his helmet visor. A pair of bored golden eyes stared at him. “My name is Sir Crowley now. Well, to friends, just Crowley. ”

 _Ah, blimey!_ the demon was irritated for a few seconds, but inside he was happy to see the angel again.

"Err... and what are you doing here?"

"I'm here to stop the foments."

“Uh? What do you have against porridge? ”

"No! Foments are… well, the war between clans. ”

"Ah!" the demon looked down and babbled. "And I'm here to ... uh ... foment war!"

"Are you telling me we're both here, in this damp, dirty place, just to cancel each other's action?"

“Uh, it's true. It's a little humid this place, but you get used to it. ”

"It would be better if we both stayed home."

"What ?!" the demon widened his green and brown eyes. "What you mean?!"

"You know, just being home, me and you, would be the same as both of us working."

"But that would be lying!"

“Your specialty, innit?”

“I… I don't think it's a good idea. Last time we tried to fool Heaven and Hell we... uh ... ”

“Oh, relax! They just need to see us doing something from time to time and that's it. Let’s just do nothing against each other. It’s a deal?"

 _I must be a terrible devil, because I'm in doubt of making a shady deal._ Azirafell thought, biting his lip. Finally, he held out his hand to the angel and the first of many of theirs Arrangements was done.

……………………………………

Between the towns of Cardiff and Bristol was a small riverfront village that remained a neutral area in the countless wars between Celts, Welsh, Saxons, and Anglos. People whispered that a miracle was underway in this place to keep it away from conflict.

A demonic miracle.

Azirafell had to move his literary collection several times around the island to avoid problems in those last centuries. From Kent to Sussex and then to Mercia and now Gwent. An exhausting task when you have over twenty thousand issues to take care of - and some of them weigh over twelve pounds.

Viscount Hell's castle was small and pleasant, with little touches of demonic magic to keep the place warm and dry - and fireproof, he learned his lesson from the Library of Alexandria. Azirafell had some servants, who he promptly dismissed for a few days to be able to enjoy the company of his angel friend alone.

“Fancy little castle you have here!” the red-haired knight commented, watching with satisfaction the beautiful stone structure. "It's good to be a viscount, innit?"

"So, so. I am not a viscount here on Earth, but in Hell. ”

“It's even better!”

“Well, sometimes. They leave me alone most of the time. Would you like a wine? ”

“Is there a red coming from Caledonia? Since I've been to the north to make some blessings among the Picts, I've never tasted anything better. ”

“The Picts? Aren't they pagans? ”

“The best kind of pagans! Good mates! Moreover, in Heaven, the law is: To do good without looking to whom.”

"I see. Well, unfortunately I don't have wine, but I have a new drink that is very popular in the Highlands: it's called whiskey. Do you want to try it?"

"Sure!"

The demon served his host along with boar meat and bread, which he refused. The two drank, ate and talked a lot. They had not seen each other for almost a century and had plenty of history to tell, for since the disaster in Alexandria they had seen each other little more than once or twice every decade.

“… and then I said to the centurion: of course! That's why it called Greek Kiss! Hahahaha!” Crowley laughed, shaking his whiskey-filled horn.

"Hahah, oh dear boy, you're so mean!" the blonde wiped a tear of laughter from the corner of his eye. "Sometimes I think you would make a great demon!"

“And you would make a great angel! I mean... really? Pacify the entire region just to protect your books? Not even Gabriel would have such competence!”

The mention of the archangel's name made Azirafell wince, but he tried to disguise it. No use.

"Did I said something wrong?"

"Wut? No, no, nothing wrong! I ... uh ... I think it's the drink that is making me shiver. I think it's better sober up. ”

“Awww, what a pity! You're more funny when you’re drunk!”

“Heh, say that to my migraine! Sometimes not even a miracle is enough to make the pain pass. Anyway, would you like to spend the night here anyway? As a guest. ”

"If I'm not a bother…"

“Oh, quite not! I'll show you a room!”

They climbed into the upper rooms with their metal boots scraping on the stone steps. They were so entertained that they even forgot to remove their uncomfortable armor.

“Ugh, damn sardine can!” Crowley unbuckled his breastplate and it fell heavily to the floor. "When humans are going to invent more comfortable war clothes?!"

"Hope soon!" said the demon, stroking his aching neck. “Well, make yourself comfortable in your room. If you need anything I'm in the next room. ”

After accommodating his guest, Azirafell went to his suite. He began to remove his armor, albeit awkwardly. Without his squire, he couldn't get rid of all that iron. He took off his vambraces and tried to crouch down to reach the metal boots without much success.

"Need some help?" Crowley offered, appearing in the bedroom door. He was already without his armor, dressed only in a thin white cotton suit that showed off his musculature well.

“Uh, yes. It would be... kind of you. ”

Soon the angel began to unbuckle the metal plates of the demon's body. First the greaves, the knee pads, the cuises and the belt. To gain access to these parts, he had to kneel before Azirafell in a position that caused an inconvenient heat to spring from the blonde's groin.

 _Oh dear me! Crowley, are you doing this on purpose?!_ he lifted his head up to avoid looking at the angel.

The Principality rose and began to remove the shoulder pads, the abdominal plate and the chest plate, displaying the leather doublet under the metal.

"Sorry, I must be stinking." Azirafell apologized, feeling the leather a little damp on his skin.

"Don't worry, you smell good," the angel said, in a tone of voice that seemed to denote something else.

With a gesture, Crowley asked the demon to raise his arms. The leather doublet was removed, leaving only a white wool shirt that clung to Azirafell's sweaty skin, leaving his soft, rounded shapes outlined.

"Ah... m-my physique is not exactly the most, huh, the most suitable for a knight, yeah?" he commented, with some nervousness.

“I think your physique is perfect.” even with his back turned, the demon knew the angel was smiling as he said that phrase. He could feel his hands sliding down his side as he removed his shirt. “Hmmm, you're very nice to touch, you know that? Your hips, and your back looks... oh… _SHIT!_ ”

"What? What is—?!” the demon asked, startled.

“Fuck’s sake, Azirafell! What is _this_?!"

.

.

.


	2. Chapter 2

The angel's hands touched the demon's back from the top of his shoulder blades to the center of the vertebral column. The blond understood the reason for his friend's fright and tried to smile nonchalantly.

"Oh, this?" he glanced over his shoulder. "It's the scars of my burnt wings when I Fell."

"Jesus fucking Christ!" Crowley's voice was full of anguish. "They are so big, so... horrible!"

"Don’t worry, they don't hurt anymore."

“Are you sure?” it was possible to feel the almost ghostly touch of the angel's fingerprints on the scars. A sense of pleasure ran down the demon's spine. “And this one here? This one looks different!”

"Uh, are you talking about a scar above my hip?"

"Yes! It’s straight and wide! These are not part of the wings burn! What is this?"

“Er… it's nothing. I even forget about it! By the way, I have a similar one in my belly— ”

Before the demon finished the sentence, Crowley twisted his body by the waist to check for the other scar on Azirafell's belly. It was vertical and ugly, just like the one in his back. It was as if the demon's body had been pierced with something.

"Is this... a sword wound ?!" the angel looked agitated. "Who did this?!"

"Uh ..." the demon bit his lip. "This was when I ... I was sentenced to the Fall."

" _Who_ did this?!" Crowley repeated the question more forcefully.

"Uh, you know, my original physical body was destroyed and I Fell to Hell." the demon tried to change the focus of the subject. “My original white wings burned, and maybe I got a few more injuries when I Fell into the sulfur pit and…”

"Who. Did. _THIS?!?_ ” the angel's voice was very, very angry.

"I-i-it d-doesn't matter." Azirafell mumbled, startled. “It doesn't matter anymore, Crowley!"

The redhead's thin fingers traced the scar on his belly and then on his back. His brow furrowed menacingly.

"It's a wide cut, but not as wide as Sandalphon Cutlass could cause." he began to analyze the wound. “Nor is it a clean drilling that Uriel's katana could do. Michael's bastard sword? No ... a blade of that size wouldn't make an entrance like this... ah! Gabriel! ” he growled the name. "Gabriel's Claymore!"

Wrath. One of the deadly sins. Glowing anger could be felt emanating from the redhead.

"Crowley, please!" the demon turned and grabbed the angel by the shoulders. "Cool down a bit! You're angry for nothing!”

“Nothing?! So... this is how the high office bastards make other angels Fall?! Fucking sadists! ”

“He was just doing his job, okay? He... he needed to make me Fall somehow! ”

 _"Fucking_ sadists!!!" the angel turned and started toward the door. In a panic, the demon grabbed his arm.

“Crowley, no! Don't you dare go to Gabriel with this fury in your eyes, you might get into troubl—!”

The sentence was interrupted when the redhead hugged him tightly.

Crowley buried his face in Azirafell's neck, causing the blond's groin to throb again inconveniently. His hands tightened on the demon's shoulders. It was still possible to feel the anger coming from him, but he was trying to control himself.

"Does it still hurt?" the angel asked, his voice no longer angry but sad.

"N-n-no more," the demon replied, returning the hug. “It's fine, Crowley, don't worry. What has passed has passed. ”

"I'm sorry."

“Oh, my dear boy, don't feel it! It's ok. ”

"No, it's not."

"What? Of course it is! The scars don't hurt anymore. ”

"Do not lie."

"But I ...!" Azirafell stopped the sentence in the middle and swallowed hard.

 _It's useless to lie in the face of an angel. One that knows me so well!_ thought the demon. The truth is that although those scars no longer hurt physically, they still hurt psychologically.

The reason why Azirafell avoided sleeping at all costs was because he always had nightmares. His mind drove him back to the moment of the Fall. At the moment of the blow. The moment when sadness, pain and hatred consumed his soul as he fell toward hell. He always woke up in panic, crying and brooding over that moment.

Yes, those scars still hurt. A lot.

"Do you... do you want me to get rid of these scars?" Crowley's voice sounded soft.

"I've tried, they don't disappear." there was a bit of disappointment in Azirafel's voice, but also a peaceful acceptance. "It's not a simple injury to my physical body, but to my soul."

"I can heal these scars."

“Uh, Crowley? I don't think you can... "

"Call me Raphael." the angel stepped away, gripping the demon's arms. “I am Raphael, the Healer of Heaven! The Bringer of Divine Healing! There is no wound I cannot heal!”

Immediately, the energy emanating from the angel was different. It was no longer that gentle divine force, but a much greater, almost overflowing power. Azirafell felt that he was no longer facing a low-ranking angel but a powerful Archangel.

“But… but how? You have been ... demoted! You are a Principality now! ”

“I am a Principality most of the time, but I can still invoke some of my ancient power. Although only for a few minutes. I hope they will be enough to heal your scars. ”

“Cro— Raphael! Don't bother to heal some old wounds, I'm fine! ”

"I know you're not." the angel’s golden eyes were sad. “I can feel it, I can still feel part of your pain. Please, Zira, allow me to heal these wounds. Please. ” his voice was pleading. "Give me access to your soul."

The demon blushed to his ear, his green and brown eyes watered, and he looked away, though he knew it was useless. He knew that Archangel Raphael had enough power to see through him. And at that moment he was asking for more access.

Among supernatural creatures, this was a bold request. And quite intimate. Probably not even most angels had such confidence in each other to accept that.

But Azirafell had. He trusted the angel. He had already entrusted him with his life once, and now he was about to entrust him with his soul.

"O-okay ... you can do it." Azirafell mumbled.

Gently, Raphael took the demon's hand and pulled him towards him. He sat on the edge of the bed and motioned for the blond to sit on his lap, facing him. Swallowing hard, Azirafell obeyed.

With a focused expression on his face, the redhead began to massage the demon's shoulders, back, chest, and belly. Not in an erotic way, but soothing. His fingers slid across Azirafell's pale skin, whose breathing began to deepen.

Then, little by little, the power of a great miracle began to manifest.

 _So strong!_ the demon thought, feeling the energy radiating into him. His demonic instincts warned him that this was a bad idea, after all it was ongoing divine magic. _I trust him!_ Azirafell thought, feeling like hugging the angel in front of him. _I trust my friend._

_My friend._

_My..._

_... beloved._

In the next instant, Raphael's arms gripped the demon's body tightly. His fingers dug into his shoulder blades, almost digging his nails into the flesh. But Azirafell barely noticed, for what flooded his senses most was the incredible sensation of the healing miracle coursing through his body.

Running through his soul.

_Ah ... strong ... too much!_

The energy was pure, white, cold and invasive. A light emanated from the angel as Raphael's powerful golden wings - the mighty Archangel of Healing - manifested on the physical plane and enveloped both of them. The waves of energy were pulsing from the inside out, making the scar-damaged skin tingle.

Azirafell's mind went through four and a half millennia, end to end, making sudden stops at the beginning of time, at the moment of his Fall. There were several wounds running through his soul — one particularly large before the end of the fourth millennium — but the largest were concentrated in a single moment.

The sword that pierced his body.

The wings that burned.

The mortal body torn apart by sulfur.

Panic when he knew that he could never return to Heaven again.

"Aaaazzzii ....!" Raphael growled, not with fury but as a mortally wounded animal. He said the demon’s old name: “..... aaaaazziiiirapHALEEE _EE!!!!”_

In a silent flash, it was suddenly over. The golden wings disappeared from existence, leaving a scent of ozone in the room.

Raphael (no, Crowley) fell back with his arms outstretched on the bed.

"Ah, R-Raph ... Crowley!" the demon exclaimed, leaning over the angel. "Good grieve, are you alright?! Please, answer me!"

The angel was unconscious of exhaustion but still breathing. His skin was cold and his expression was that of someone who had made a great effort. Gently, Azirafell held his face in his hands.

"You! Y-you c-crazy angel!" he scolded, feeling tears stream from his eyes. “That could have discorporate you… worse! It could have caused an injury to your soul too! Ugh, stupid… foolish angel!”

Azirafell reached his back, no longer feeling the disfigured bumps on his shoulder blades. He also smoothed his belly and realized that the scar that was there was gone. _It worked!_ the demon thought, but he couldn’t be so happy with the result after the danger his friend had been through.

Gently, the blond put Crowley's head in his lap. His long red hair was spread over the demon’s legs. And so they stayed for an hour, maybe two, until the angel began to slowly wake up.

"Mmmm ... Z-zira ...?"

"Crowley!" the demon widened his eyes, holding his head gently. “Wait, don't get up! You are still very weak! Here, drink some water! ” with a wave of his hand, a horn of water appeared in the blond's hands.

Sitting slowly, the angel accepted the water and drank in small swallows. The expression on his face indicated that he must be all sore. But he smiled as he looked at Azirafell's bare, rotund abdomen and realized that the scar was gone.

"Oh, are you ok?" he asked, a little worried.

“Of course I am, the scars are gone! Thank you for your healing miracle, my dear boy, but never risk yourself again!”

“My pleasure.” Crowley smiled and gestured for Azirafell to turn around, presenting his back. The demon obeyed and proudly showed what he believed to be his back intact. ”

"Oh." the angel's voice sounded surprised, and then sad. "Sorry, I failed."

"What? No, you not have failed. The scars on my belly and back have disappeared. ”

"No, I failed." he traced the angel's back with his fingers.

In an area where the demon couldn’t reach, there was still a slight scar right in the middle of his back. Azirafell conjured a demonic miracle and two mirrors appeared in his hands. He positioned them so he could see the remaining mark.

“Oh, dear boy! The scar left is tiny!” he snapped his fingers and the mirrors vanished into thin air. “Before the mark of my burnt wings was bigger than my hands, but now they barely cover three fingers. And the sword wound disappeared completely in my back and belly. Your healing worked. ”

Saying nothing, Crowley gently grasped the demon's face and touched forehead to forehead. His expression grew more miserable after this gesture.

"Not totally. You… you still have a lot of pain from the painful memory of that moment in your soul, don't you?” the angel murmured.

“If I have, they are certainly much smaller thanks to you. Crowley, my dear, you did your best and I’m forever grateful. ”

“The truth is, you shouldn't even have these scars in first place, you… you didn't deserve that! You didn't deserve to have Fallen. I sorry! ”

"You have nothing to apologize for, Crowl—"

"Sorry!" the angel insisted. Azirafell could feel his tears falling on his skin. “If only I had met you before, I could… could intercede on your behalf and you wouldn't have to suffer all that pain. I was... ugh, I was so self-centered back then! I didn't care about meeting other angels, or knowing what they were doing, I just want to do my job with no one to bother me! If I only knew ... if I knew all the injustice ...! ”

"Stop, please." the blonde hugged the angel, he was shaking. “It was not your fault! It was my fault, only mine! I was responsible for my Fall! If I had done better, if I had been a more worthy angel, this would not have happened.”

"I ... I felt, Zira."

"Felt what?"

"Your pain." Crowley hugged him tighter. “Your pain, your fear, your anger, your frustration… and the Fall! I ... I felt it all! You didn't deserve to have been through this. ”

 _What, did he see everything?!_ _Did he feel everything ?!_ the demon's eyes widened. If he had known that his friend would have to see and feel everything he went through, he would have refused the offer of miraculous healing.

"That bastard… Gabriel!" the angel said, suddenly gripping the blonde's shoulders too hard. “He didn't even wait for you to justify yourself, he… that dick in tunic! Fucking bloody wanker...! ”

“Stop!” Azirafell held the angel's face in his hands. “Stop right now. I know pretty well where this kind of bad feeling leads, dear boy. If this continues this situation will culminate in _your_ Fall! And if this happens, I ... I will _never_ forgive myself!”

For a moment the angel seemed to be arguing, but changed his mind. He squinted and more tears streamed from his eyes. Azirafell didn't know what to say, didn't know how to comfort him. The demon would rather suffer the pain of his Fall again than have to see his dear Crowley suffering like that.

_Please, please, please! Do not suffer, my friend._

_My..._

_... beloved._

A tear trickled down his cheek to wet the angel's lips. And for a moment the blond thought about wiping that tear with his own lips.

_No!_

_Crowley has suffered too much!_

_All he doesn't need is a Fall because some stupid demon tempted him to do something he shouldn't have do! I ... I can't do this, I can't!_

_In the name of my love for him, I cannot love him._

_I cannot._

The angel's weariness returned and he began to fall asleep in Azirafell's arms. And the demon rocked him for the rest of the night.

………………………

Sir Crowley of the Round Table needed to return to his mission to prevent the Black Knight from spreading the war over King Arthur's lands.

That is, both the angel and the demon would stay home and leave the humans to decide for themselves what was best for them.

"Thank you so much for visiting, my dear boy," said Azirafell. “I hope we can meet again soon, in a more favorable situation.”

"Yeah, me too." Crowley forced a smile. “Take care, Black Knight. Don't get in trouble.”

“Hah, look who's talking! Take care of yourself, Sir Crowley. And if you need help, you know where to find me. ”

In the fog of the road, the angel in silver armor disappeared. Azirafell sighed. A mixture of relief and worry filled his being. He stroked his back, still unaccustomed to the absence of the scars that reached his shoulders. With sad eyes, he looked up.

"God, please," he asked, clasping his hands in prayer. “I know you don't hear my calls anymore, but listen to this one at least! Protect Crowley, yes? Protect him from all evil! And if necessary, sacrifice me in his place! Please!"

The Heavens, as always, remained silent. The blond demon bowed his head and returned to his castle. If God didn’t hear his prayers, he swore inwardly that he would make Heaven and Hell hear him out.

By force, if necessary.


End file.
